


Cold

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cold, Explicit Sexual Content, Flirting, Games, Hide and Seek, M/M, Never Have I Ever, PWP, Strip Poker, Trapped, Truth or Dare, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 02:33:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13537839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: It's freezing outside, and the boys need something to warm them up.





	1. Cold and Bored

**Author's Note:**

> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's _Sherlock_ , though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> All posted works are complete, and we hope there will be something for everyone. We've got quite a few stories, and we invite you to get lost in them. **To keep up with our new stories, please subscribe.**
> 
> We also really appreciate the kudos and comments. They mean a lot -- sometimes they inspire new ideas and works, sometimes they just make us feel all warm inside. If you've got any story ideas, you can leave them in the comments or at JW's tumblr page, which can be found [here](http://ivefangirledandicantgetup.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Thanks for reading and for being a great community!

Sherlock stood staring out the window, holding his mug up to his face to protect it from the frigid feeling that seeped through the glass.

"There's a man out on the street, John," he said. The man looked miserably cold and almost fell twice on the ice. Sherlock took a long drink of his tea. "You said no one was allowed on the street, which was quite blatantly a lie." 

John rolled his eyes. "I can't account for idiots, Sherlock. They've suggested everyone stay inside because of the frigid weather. There could be a blizzard."

"Blizzard's a bit of an exaggeration, John," Sherlock said, moving over to the sofa. "Have you ever been to the Arctic? The Arctic gets blizzards; England does not."

"Right, I forgot you had been to the Arctic," John said sarcastically. "Was it nice?"

"No, John, it was not. I spent a few months there when I was a teenager. My great grandfather was an explorer and the Arctic was one trip he'd planned to make, but he died before he could. My uncle decided to give it a try and brought me with him," Sherlock said. "So I have been to the Arctic, John Watson, and I do know blizzards and they are not nice." He paused to take a sip of tea. "In fact, my uncle was killed in a blizzard in the Arctic. I probably should have included that earlier in the story."

"If we're going to start making up stories to pass the time, I'd like a little warning to get mine together," John said, not looking up from the computer.

"I'm trying to keep my mind active, John," Sherlock said. "I know this is our first winter together, but I don't do well unless my mind is active and your trapping me in this flat with nothing to do is not going to get any prettier." He turned and flopped his legs up onto the sofa to add drama to his pout.

"Calm down," John said. He closed his laptop. "Why don't we play some games? That's what Harry and I used to do."

"When you were children?" Sherlock asked. "I'm not a child." He rolled roughly onto his back and then said, "God, I'm bored" as he kicked his heels against the cushion. He sat up. "Okay, fine. What games?"

"There's a lot. Hide and Seek, Truth or Dare, Never Have I Ever . . ."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Those are very childish, John," he said. "I had no idea you had such childish tendencies." He glanced over and made a smarmy smile. "Let's tell stories again -- I enjoyed telling you about my trip to the Arctic." He got up to put the kettle on. "I've already had a turn so it's your go -- tell me about your favourite holiday."

"Oh, well, I've been to the North Pole. I helped pack up Santa's sleigh. Maybe the same year you were in the Arctic," John said.

"Probably," Sherlock said. "I've never been a big fan of Christmas."

"I love Christmas," John said. "When I was five, Harry and I had been begging for a dog. On Christmas morning, there was a box with holes in it, like air holes. We were so excited we ignored every other gift for that box, but inside there were two stuffed animals. My dad was filming it all. Harry threw hers across the room and I cried." John smiled at the memory. 

Sherlock shook his head. "That story does nothing to win me over," he said. He thought for a moment. "Are you going to want to get a Christmas tree for the flat?" he asked.

John looked around. "We don't really have the space for one," he said.

"Good," Sherlock said. "Celebrating is . . . unnecessary."

"What? Why?" 

"What's the point of celebrating?" Sherlock said. "I have never understood that."

"Friends, family, presents," John smiled. "There's a lot to celebrate."

"You're my only friend, my family is Mycroft, and I haven't had a gift for years," Sherlock said. He glanced at John and then changed the subject. "Besides, we'll all be dead by Christmas -- from boredom or the cold or both."

"We will not. Let's play a game," John said. "How about Never Have I Ever?"

"Sounds boring," Sherlock said. "How do you play it?"

"You say something you've never done and if I have, I drink. Then we take turns."

"You don't have a drink," Sherlock said. He picked up his mug which was empty. "Neither do I."

"Well, you wanted to warm up, didn't you? A drink will help," John got up and opened the cabinet. "Wine or brandy?"

"Wine," Sherlock said. "Did your parents let you drink wine when you were five?"

"Oh yes. That's why I have such a refined taste," John smiled. He came over with the wine and two glasses.

Sherlock took a sip. "I have never had such excellent wine," he said.

John took a sip since he had, of course, had excellent wine. He thought for a moment. "I have never caused an explosion."

Sherlock smiled and took a sip. "I'm not sure that's really true though -- you may not have directly caused an explosion, but you've enabled me to so I think that kind of counts." He thought for a moment. "I have never stolen anything from my workplace."

John didn't drink.

"You've never stolen anything?" Sherlock asked suspiciously. "Remember, if you lie you have to drink twice," he added as if somehow he now controlled the rules of the game.

"First off you said from work," John smiled. "Second, that's not the rule."

"It's a new rule," Sherlock said. "Are you honestly saying you've never stolen anything from work -- not some paper or a pen or something doctor-y . . . like some cotton swabs? I'm sure I saw extra cotton swabs upstairs -- you're saying you paid money for those?"

"I've never taken anything from work," he said and shrugged.

"You are really obnoxious, John Watson," Sherlock said with a smile. "Your turn or is the game done?"

John chuckled. "I have never . . . had sex in a public place."

Sherlock lifted his glass and then stopped as if he was thinking. "Oh yeah . . . I remember now," he said wistfully, raising the glass to his lips and starting to tip it. He stopped before the wine spilled into his mouth, and then set the glass on the table. "Just kidding," he said. "But for a moment, you were incredibly curious, weren't you?"

"I have to say I was really surprised," John admitted with a smile. "Your turn."

"I have never . . . masturbated in this flat," Sherlock said. He swirled the wine in his glass and then look straight at John, waiting for his answer.

John flushed lightly, but, staring right back at Sherlock, he lifted his glass and took a drink.

"Fine, but every single day? Is that really necessary?" Sherlock asked.

"I don't every day!"

Sherlock gave him a skeptical look. "I don't care what you do," he said. "Honestly." He took a drink. "I'm taking a drink because I'm thirsty," he clarified.

"Hmm." John took a sip as he thought of the next one. "I've never . . . been turned on by one of my flatmates."

Sherlock thought for a moment. He really hadn't had many flatmates -- he had his own room when he was a child but he did share with a few people in college. John was his flatmate, of course, but he also felt like more than that. He thought for a few more minutes and then took a drink. "My turn," he said. "I have never lied to you -- except for the few times, which you know about and which I've apologized for so we don't need to go into all that again."

John raised his brows when Sherlock took a drink. He was curious about the story, but he didn't ask. Instead he just looked at Sherlock for a moment, then lifted his glass and drank.

"Intriguing," Sherlock said. "You're obligated to tell me the lie now."

"Am not," John grinned. "I've never had more than one relationship going at once."

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked.

"You know, dated two people at once."

"That's a stupid one," Sherlock said.

John took a drink and shrugged. "I'm just trying to make it interesting. Let's play something else if you want."

"Fine," Sherlock said. "Strip poker?"

John raised his brows. "I will if you will," he grinned.

"You should know, I'm excellent at poker," Sherlock said, sitting forward in his chair a little. "Excellent," he repeated.

John grinned. "I'm very good as well."

"All right then," Sherlock said. "Go get some cards and I'll top up our wine." He moved into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle.

John went to get the cards from a drawer in the desk. He wondered is Sherlock was really going to go through with this.

Sherlock sat down. "You can deal," he said. "But be sure to shuffle in front of me -- I don't want any tricks."

John stuck his tongue out as he shuffled the cards. He dealt them out and brought his close.

Sherlock held his cards right up to his face. "You sure you shuffled well?" Sherlock said. He lay two cards on the table. "Two please."

John scooted the pile towards him so he could pick, then changed two of his own cards.

Sherlock looked at his hand and then looked over at John's face, studying it. "Are you sure you shuffled well? First hand . . . a straight," he said as he lay down his cards with a cheeky smile.

John looked at the cards in mock disappointment. Then he grinned and put his own down. "Full house."

"Cheat," Sherlock said. He took a drink of his wine.

"Mm, no. This isn't a drinking game, remember?" 

"I was thirsty," Sherlock said. "I'm not a cheater." He kicked off his shoes. "There." He scooped up the cards. "I'll deal," he said, shuffling the cards a few times and then dealt out the cards. He looked at his. All hearts. He kept his face straight.

"What trick are you playing?" John asked, looking at his crap cards.

"The cards dealt are random, John," Sherlock said. "The skill is in the choice of new cards. What's your choice?"

"All of them," John said. 

Sherlock laughed. "Your poker face needs work," he said. He handed John the deck. "Shuffle again before taking them if you don't trust me."

John replaced his cards. Just a pair, still nothing. He didn't let it show on his face.

"I won't take any," Sherlock said. "I've won, haven't I?" he added, turning his hand round.

John wrinkled his nose and nodded. "Cheater," he teased.

"Outrageous accusation," Sherlock said. "Get your kit off."

John laughed. "Yeah right! Fair is fair," he said, taking only his shoes off. 

"Fine," Sherlock said. "Fair is fair." He bundled the cards into a stack and shoved them toward John.

John shuffled them and passed out the cards again, holding his close.

Sherlock picked up his cards. They weren't very good. "Hmm," he said. "I'll take three."

John pushed the deck closer to him and then replaced just one in his own hand. 

"Three of a kind," Sherlock said. "Do I win?"

John sighed, then grinned and revealed three of a kind . . . and a pair. "Take it off, baby," he chuckled.

Sherlock thought for a moment and then unbuttoned his shirt. He tried to play it cool as he dropped it to the floor and picked up his glass for a sip.

John looked him over and smiled. "Again?"

"Why do you ask -- you want to quit while you're ahead?"

"Of course not," he said shuffling. He raked his eyes over Sherlock's exposed chest. He was surprised by how muscular he was. Then he noticed Sherlock's nipples budding, he must be freezing. "Let's move on to a different game," he said as he set down the cards.

"Good," Sherlock said, grabbing his shirt. "It seemed quite cruel of you to want me nude, what with today being the coldest on record or whatever you were saying earlier." He slipped his shirt back on. "What's the next game?"

"Hmm . . . how about Truth or Dare?" John asked.

"Does it involve me getting naked because it's too cold to be naked, John," Sherlock said. "Normally you complain when I'm not dressed properly but now that it's freezing out you want my clothes off? This weather has turned you nasty."

John laughed. "Okay, no dares to take off clothes."

"Thank you," Sherlock said. "I greatly appreciate it." He tipped the rest of his wine into his mouth. "Fine, remind me -- if I choose truth, you ask a question I have to be honest about and if I choose dare, you get me to do something stupid, correct?"

John grinned. "Yeah, that's the gist of it."

"You go first," Sherlock said. "Truth or dare?"

John smiled. "Dare."

"I dare you . . . to tell me what's in the bottom of your bedside cabinet."

"Now you're just trying to embarrass me!" John laughed. "Sorry to disappoint you -- I just have old photos in there."

"Old photos of whom?" Sherlock asked.

"Family, friends, things like that," John said.

Sherlock looked skeptical. "I was hoping for something more exciting," he mumbled. "Your turn. I'll take truth."

"Hmm. How long was your last relationship?"

Sherlock thought for a moment. He knew what John was asking, but he didn't really know how best to answer it accurately. This was supposed to be a truth, and even though it was just a stupid game, he felt he should try to be as honest as he could. "If you truly mean relationship, I suppose I've not had one," he said. "If you just mean sex, then I suppose it was two days." The answer really didn't reflect the subtleties, but it was the truth.

"You had sex two days ago?" John asked before he could stop himself.

"What? No!" Sherlock said. "I meant, it was a two day 'relationship' -- obviously I didn't have sex two days ago. It's been more like two years, you idiot . . ." he added before realising he'd shared an answer to a question that hadn't been asked.

John grinned. "Hmm, that's interesting."

"I'm not sure it is," Sherlock said. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth," John said.

"When was the last time you had sex?" Sherlock asked.

"Two months ago," John said easily.

"I see," Sherlock said. "In this flat?"

John shook his head. He remembered how Sherlock had offered an extra bit of truth so he did as well. "At his place."

"His?" Sherlock asked, genuinely surprised. "That's an unexpected bit of truth."

John smiled softly. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare," Sherlock said.

"I dare you to . . . go get a hug from Mrs Hudson, but you're not allowed to ask for one."

Sherlock looked at the door and then back to John. "Really? That seems a little complicated," he said. "Especially when it's so cold."

"A dare is a dare!" 

Sherlock stood up and thought for a moment. Then he sat back down and picked up his phone. "Mrs Hudson?" he said after dialing her number. "Can you come up for a moment?" He gave John a smarmy smile and then stood up and moved into the kitchen.

When Mrs Hudson opened the door, she saw John and smiled. "What's up?" she asked.

"Could you come help me for a second?" Sherlock called.

Mrs Hudson moved into the kitchen. As she got close, Sherlock turned and took a step forward, losing his balance, and starting to fall toward her. She held out her arms to catch him, and he righted himself, wrapping his arms around her and giving her a squeeze. "Thank you," he said quietly. "It's so cold out and John's being mean to me. I just felt I should tell you that." He pulled back and moved over to his chair. "Your turn," he said to John.

Mrs Hudson stood still for a moment and then turned, asking, "Did you need my help in here or what?"

"You've been excellent," Sherlock said. "That's all."

Mrs Hudson rolled her eyes. "I have a feeling I've been a victim of something here, but I don't know what and quite frankly I'd rather not know," she said as she moved to the door. "However, I do feel compelled to ask one thing -- why haven't you idiots built a fire? It's the coldest day we've had in years and obviously you're both gone stupid because of it. Make a fire and warm yourselves up." She opened the door. "And stop bothering me," she added then left.

"That was fun," Sherlock said. "But she does have a point -- why haven't you made a fire, John? You're the responsible one around here and that seems a very irresponsible decision, especially as you've been trying to get me to take my clothes off all day. Are you up to something nefarious?"

"You've got a hundred books piled in front, we'll burn the flat down," John said. "Clean that up and I'll make the fire."

"Don't be a baby just because I was clever enough to do your dare," Sherlock said. "But I am still cold -- more wine or tea or both? Both, I think," he said standing up. He turned on the kettle then looked around for another bottle of wine. He opened it and brought it back to the table, and then made two cups of tea which he also brought in. 

"Thank you," John said. "I'll take dare."

"Okay, I dare you to swap clothes with me," Sherlock said. "You're wearing a bulky sweater so you can't truly appreciate how cold I am."

"Just my jumper or everything I'm wearing?" John asked.

"Everything -- except pants because I'm not wearing them," Sherlock said. He wasn't sure if John would accept the dare or not and that quite pleased him.

"With our height it's going to be a bit awkward, but I'm not losing." He took his jumper off and started unbuttoning his shirt.

"We're not going out to a fashion show, John," Sherlock said. Then he unbuttoned his shirt and set it next to him on the chair. He pulled off his socks before standing up, turning around and taking off his trousers. He quickly sat down and then threw his clothes over to John. "Hurry," he said. "I'm really freezing now." 

John threw his clothes over at Sherlock. He pulled on Sherlock's trousers -- they wouldn't button and they were too long. Sherlock's shirt was tight in the arms. "If this rips I'm not replacing it," he said.

Sherlock slipped into John's jeans which were a bit loose and too short, but the shirt and jumper were fine. "Ah, yes, much better," he said. "I may look foolish but I'm already warmed up." He had some tea and felt quite pleased with himself. "I'd like a truth, please."

John finished his wine. "Have you ever been in love?"

"I don't know," Sherlock said quickly.

"You have or you haven't," John said. 

Sherlock scowled. "I'm supposed to say the truth, aren't I?" he asked.

John nodded. "Can you explain why you don't know, so I can understand?"

"I don't know because--" Sherlock started. "All right, fine, yes, I have. I love someone, okay?"

"Right now?" John asked surprised.

"Yes, right now," Sherlock said. "What does it matter? Don't you love someone right now? It's supposed to last forever, right?"

"Do you mean romantically?" John asked.

Sherlock looked over at John and could see his curiosity was piqued. He liked John's face when he was curious. "I suppose I do," Sherlock said. "What do you make of that?"

John held his gaze. "It's interesting, that's all. I'm surprised."

"What -- that I'm capable of love?" 

"No! Just that . . . it's happening right now. I've not seen anyone come around at all."

"Well, there's a reason for that," Sherlock said. "Any ideas?"

John held his gaze, then chuckled. "You almost got me. It's you, isn't it?"

Sherlock laughed. "Right," he said. "If I were romantically in love with myself, don't you think I'd spend more time masturbating and you already know I haven't in this flat. Whatever, John." He finished his tea and picked up his wine. "Truth or dare?"

"I'll take truth this time," John said.

"What do you think about when you're masturbating all the time?"

John flushed lightly. "It depends on the day, on the mood I'm in," he said.

"Don't dodge the question -- you didn't let me," Sherlock said. "Fine. What did you think about when you were masturbating this morning?"

John held his gaze for a long time without answering. Finally he said, "I guess I lose, then."


	2. Warm And Less Bored

"Selfish," Sherlock said, keeping his gaze. Then he took a sip of wine, but the silence seemed too big. "Next game? How about Hide and Seek? That's what we used to play as children -- just because it was the only way to get away from Mycroft."

"Yes, let's play that," John said. He refilled his wine and took a sip.

"Shall I hide?"

"I suppose that's fair since I lost." John closed his eyes and covered them with his hands as well. "One, two, three . . ." 

Sherlock jumped up. He realised he was a little tipsy from the wine, so he steadied himself and wandered around the flat for a few minutes before disappearing into his bedroom.

John counted to fifty before standing with a slight wobble. "Ready or not, here I come!" He moved towards the kitchen first and looked inside, then moved to the hall to check the bathroom and shower. "Oh Sherlock . . ." he sang playfully.

Sherlock almost called out but then caught himself.

John left the bathroom and moved to Sherlock's room. "I'm going in your room," he teased.

Sherlock stiffened behind the door. He considered jumping out to scare John, but realised that idea was probably inspired by the wine since it would also mean that he'd lose the game.

John opened a cupboard and looked inside, then closed it and got on the floor to look under the bed. "Hmm." He got up and was about to leave the room when he noticed the door being wide open. He pulled it and grinned. "Found you!"

"You win," Sherlock said. He pushed the door shut and stepped in front of it. "You hide now." He closed his eyes even though the room was quite dark. "Go."

"You're blocking the door," John said, looking around the room.

"Hide in here," Sherlock said. "It's warmer -- we should stay in here where there are fewer windows."

"Okay, count again," John said.

Sherlock started counting. "Fifty, forty nine, forty eight . . ."

John opened the cupboard again but changed his mind, tried to get under the bed, then stood quickly. Sherlock's shirt was too restricting. He took it off, threw it away from the bed, and climbed under the covers as Sherlock was getting close to one.

"John Watson," Sherlock sang. "Where are you?" He looked around and saw a lump under his covers. He smiled stupidly. "Are you in the wardrobe? In my drawers? On the ceiling?" He moved over to the bed. "I guess he gave up. I might as well go to bed." He slid under the covers, pulling them over his head. "John? Is that you?" he asked.

John turned on his side and smiled. "You win."

"Good," Sherlock said. He curled into a ball. "It's much warmer in here, you have to admit that."

"Yes, that's true," he said.

"And it's dark," Sherlock noted. "So perhaps you'll feel more comfortable . . ."

"What do you mean?" John asked.

"To tell me what you think about when you're . . . you know -- from the game earlier -- otherwise, I'm the grand prize winner and I know you hate that," Sherlock said.

"I liked the games," John said, hoping to change the subject. "They were fun."

"They were fun," Sherlock said. "They definitely helped with feeling trapped inside." He wrapped his arms around himself. "So, your answer?"

"I just gave it," John said. He traced circles in the sheet between them.

"What? You think about playing games when you masturbate?" Sherlock asked. "I don't believe you."

"What? No," John said. "I told you, it depends."

"Right and I asked you about this morning," Sherlock said. "I just think it would be interesting to know -- a little insight into your inner world," he added as if his desire to know was purely academic.

John kept looking at the bed. "This morning I thought about coming home from work and someone offered to give me a back rub, and then I had to take my shirt off and it turned into a proper massage so I took everything off and it just kind of . . .went from there," he rambled.

Sherlock thought for a moment. "That's quite sweet," he said honestly.

"Shut up," John said. "Does this mean I win?"

"Yes, you win, John," Sherlock said.

John smiled and looked up at Sherlock. "What's my prize?"

Sherlock rolled onto his back and thought. "I could give you a back rub?" he offered.

"You . . . what?" John asked.

"Well, we're here, it's cold, you already have your shirt off, and now I know you like them," Sherlock said. "But it was just an idea . . ."

"An idea," John repeated. He shifted and lay on his back too. "I guess it's all right, if you want to . . ."

"I'll give it a try," Sherlock said. "I'm not sure I'll be good at it." He sat up a bit, pulling the blankets down. He slid down on his side and began rubbing John's back with one hand. His skin was cool, but Sherlock felt the large muscles underneath, which John normally kept hidden by his ridiculous jumpers. One of which Sherlock was now wearing. He pulled the jumper over his head and dropped it on the side of the bed, before going back to rubbing John. "Is this all right?"

John closed his eyes. This was just what he imagined, only now they were in Sherlock's bed and he could hardly believe it. "Hmm, yes," he said, swallowing hard.

Sherlock's hand was getting tired, so he pushed himself up a bit and turned so he was positioned next to John's hips. This allowed him to use both hands. "Are your muscles sore?" he asked softly.

"Not today . . ." 

"If they get sore, I could do this for you," Sherlock said. "I don't mind." He rubbed from John's shoulders to his lower back. "I kind of like it actually. I like helping you, John."

"Okay," John said, but he doubted he'd ever ask. He tried not to shift against the bed.

"You help me, John, all the time," Sherlock said. "I probably don't say thank you enough, but I hope you know how grateful I am for you."

John flushed lightly. "I think the wine is getting to you," he murmured.

"Possibly -- it makes it easier to talk," Sherlock said. "I'm not good at talking about things like this, as I'm sure you've noticed."

John nodded. Sherlock's hands felt incredible and it was hard to focus.

"Your body . . . is strong," Sherlock said. "It's good."

"Sherlock," John said, his voice more of a moan than he intended. 

"Maybe you want to ask me something . . . something from the game," Sherlock said, his hands roaming over John's back. "Like who it is I love right now . . . do you want to know, John?"

John dragged his mind to the game from before, when he'd asked Sherlock. Why would he bring it up now? John nodded, shifting on the bed again.

"It's you," Sherlock said. "It's probably wrong, you're probably angry, but I was supposed to tell the truth -- so I'm telling the whole truth now."

John turned on his back, pushing Sherlock a bit in his attempt. He sat up and slowly touched Sherlock's cheek, holding his jaw. "I'm not angry," he said. "I hope you're not angry that I think about you when I . . . well, like this morning . . . it was you I was thinking about."

Sherlock smiled. "Disgusting," he said. He pushed John down and lay down flat on top of him. "You're warm," he said as he slid his arms under John's body.

"Sorry," John said, holding Sherlock's waist. "And you are a flatmate I'm attracted to -- I've had many before I wasn't attracted to, but I am to you."

"Why have you hidden it so well?"

"I didn't think you were interested in this sort of thing."

"I didn't think you were either," Sherlock said. "I wasn't expecting to love you, but I do."

"I love you too," he said, rubbing Sherlock's back.

"That way?" Sherlock asked, nuzzling John's neck.

"Every way," he said, tilting his head a bit to give Sherlock more room.

"I'm still wearing your clothes," Sherlock said as he slid one hand down to John's arse.

"I think you should take them off now."

"Really?" Sherlock said, already slipping off the shirt and beginning to unbutton the jeans. "You too?"

John nodded, pushing at Sherlock's trousers to get them off.

Once they were nude, Sherlock fell onto John again, kissing his mouth roughly as his hand slid up John's side and slid under his arm to grip his shoulder. John moaned in surprise, kissing back just as hungrily. His hands moved down Sherlock's waist and back, gripping his hips to tug him close.

Sherlock smiled into the kiss. "I suppose you have no idea how badly you've been torturing me the last few months?" he asked.

"I've been the one tortured! Watching you parade around in just a sheet or . . . or those damned shirts ready to burst open."

"All the time I was just waiting. Waiting . . . for you to come to your senses," Sherlock said. "Instead, it took the freezing cold."

"It took you finally touching me," John smiled.

Sherlock pressed his hips against John's as he sucked roughly on John's neck. Then he let a hand slip between their bodies and held John's cock before moving into a slow stroke. John bucked in surprise and then lay still, moaning Sherlock's name deeply as he imagined what that lovely hand looked like around him. He squeezed him closer, his breathing getting heavier. Sherlock's mouth moved down to his collarbone and he sucked the skin there. He pressed himself against John's leg as he continued his stroke. John moved his leg to give Sherlock friction as he swore breathlessly. 

"John, please . . . touch me," Sherlock said, letting his body fall to John's side.

John turned and wrapped his fingers around Sherlock's cock, stroking as he watched Sherlock's face. 

"Yes," Sherlock moaned softly, closing his eyes and taking in the warm pleasure of everything that was happening. Then he opened his eyes again and looked straight at John as his stroke sped up slightly and his hips moved with John's hand. "Good?" he asked.

John nodded. "Incredible. You're so sexy . . ."

Sherlock's lips curled into a smile, and he leaned forward and kissed John again, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth before moving the kiss to John's ear. John moaned, twisting his hand a bit. It'd been a long time for Sherlock and this simple move was a move too far.

"I'm going to explode," Sherlock exhaled into John's ear. His body moved on its own now, rocking the bed as he could feel the coil tighten in his core. "God . . ." he moaned as his orgasm hit.

John moved his mouth over Sherlock's and kissed him hard, breathlessly as he let go and followed Sherlock into his own orgasm. His whole body was on fire.

"Fucking hell, John," Sherlock said, trying to catch his breath. "I'm burning up now." He moved a little a way from John, reaching for the shirt to wipe his hand. He offered it to John. "It's yours -- sorry."

"It's okay," John said, using the shirt as well and tossing it off the bed. He scooted closer to Sherlock and just stared at him, admiring his flushed face.

"That was more fun than your games," Sherlock said, shifting to get comfortable and pulling a blanket up to cover him a little.

John smiled. "I didn't know this was an option!"

"Nor did I," Sherlock said. "I suppose it's happened as it should." He snuggled down a little, starting to feel the cold. "But it's not a game to me -- I meant what I said."

"I meant what I said too," John said. He reached over and held Sherlock's hand. 

"Really? You've never stolen anything from a workplace?" Sherlock said, with a smile as he squeezed John's hand.

John grinned at him. "Right."

"Hmm . . . you're an odd one, John Watson," Sherlock said. He yawned a little. "Should we sleep now? I feel sleepy."

John nodded. "Come closer, though. It'll be warmer," he smiled.

Sherlock snuggled against John. "I've changed my mind about the cold," he said. "Today's been my favourite day in a long time, all because of it."

John smiled and kissed Sherlock's temple. "Good night, Sherlock."

"Good night, John," Sherlock said, smiling as they drifted like snow into sleep.


End file.
